Batman & Robin: The Past Revisited
by MissScorp
Summary: Batman's greatest fear is realized on the Boy Wonders first solo patrol. What should be a normal night of patrolling Gotham turns into a race around the clock. Will Batman and Red Robin be able to save Robin in time? Dick/Damian as the dynamic duo, Tim Drake as Red Robin. T for violence and mild swearing.
1. Robin

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for the general concept and theme of my story...

* * *

The Thomas and Martha Wayne Memorial Park.

A city monument to two of Gotham's most beloved citizens. It was a playground with swing sets and slides, fountains and flowering pathways, picnic tables and grassy knolls, even an area dedicated to youth baseball and soccer. It was a place where families spent glorious weekends together.

It was a place designed for families who were absolutely nothing like _his_.

The garden fountains were quiet at that hour, the basins full of water that sparkled in the moonlight. The dense trees in the patch of forest were skeletal figures that danced in the shadows, looking like something straight out of one of those trippy Tim Burton movies. Following his father's seeming death at the hands of the New God, Darkseid, he'd undertaken the task of making the park a fine place once again.

It had seemed a fitting tribute to the grandparents that he'd never known, as well as for the father he'd only barely started forming a relationship with.

And with the millions that he'd inherited, he could certainly afford to make the park a fine memorial to his family.

But this place still attracted the dregs and bottom-feeders of Gotham's seedy underbelly. He could have chosen to take his solo patrol to Crime Alley, or Gotham's East End. But he'd chosen to come here, to the park named for his grandparents and which he knew meant something to his father. In a way, it had seemed like the most fitting place for him to finally stretch his wings.

He was so ready for this.

He'd begun his first solo patrol just after midnight, a time when the punks, muggers, murderers, and rapists were certain to be out and about, looking for fresh victims, for fresh sport, for fresh blood. Gotham's predators abounded here. And _he _was here to prey on those predators. Nothing could see him as he took a mental inventory of the environment. Nothing ever saw him. Not until it was to late.

Two middle-aged thugs, looking as if they'd just gotten released from one of a dozen stints in Blackgate, were lounging in the trees at the edge of the baseball field, chain-smoking Marlboros and guzzling beer from out of brown paper bags. Both wore black camouflage pants and heavy black leather jackets. Both had identically shaved heads and goatees. Both had that dead-eyed predator look that said they were just waiting for the right victim to come by.

They'd be easy enough to apprehend.

His senses attuned to every ambient sound, scent, and movement. He crouched in the shadows, adrenaline pumping through his bloodstream, pulse racing. His soul hungered for the thrill of the hunt, to feel that spurt of excitement warming his bloodstream. The two men began to walk down the path towards where he hid. He waited until they'd stepped past where he crouched before he struck, without warning, without a sound.

With a sweep of his bo-staff, he swept the feet out from under the first of the two thugs before turning towards the second. The second thug's face registered fear first, then slid into a gruesome mask of rage and hunger.

"Well, if it ain't da little Robin."

The first thug tried to grab him around the legs, but a twist to the right and he cracked the thug in the back of the head with the bo. The blow sent the man sprawling facedown on the ground, what little sense he had knocked out of him. The second dipped into his jacket, reaching for what Robin correctly guessed was a gun, but a hard blow with the staff sent the man flying backwards, the wind knocked out of him.

He returned the weapon to its place on his utility belt before he walked forward to tie the thugs together. He'd only taken two steps when he felt something pierce the flesh on the side of his neck. When he reached up to his throat, his fingers came away wet with blood and a small, needle thin bo-shruiken.

"What the..." the eleven year old muttered.

But his mind recognized that this had all been one cleverly laid trap. That the two thugs were really nothing but decoys meant to distract him, to keep him from being aware that another predator was waiting for him to make his move. _Stupid, foolish_! It was mistakes like these that caused failure. It annoyed the living hell out of him, but he knew he was going to have to call for back-up. The question was: who?

_Kean_, he decided after a moments debate.

While she'd scold him for falling for such an obvious ploy, and for forgetting much of his training, she'd at least coach her reproach in a voice that would manage to soothe his ruffled feathers. But Robin found that his lips would simply not obey his request to form the words his mind was saying. And he realized why with a sinking stomach.

Because the pointed tip of the needle-thin projectile had been tipped with a fast-acting tranquilizer that was already causing his vision to gray at the edges. Through the swirling mist, he saw a skeletal figure creeping towards him, the yellow orbs of their eyes glowing with malevolence. _No_... he thought. _Not him_.

"What's the matter, little Robin?" that gaping maw stretched wide as the figure bent towards him. "Do you need your mommy?"

Robin struggled, fought to power out of the drug slowly pulling him beneath its spell. But, the figure delivered a second dose of the tranquilizer with a high, shill laugh. He was unconscious long before his body slumped into the moist, earthy arms that were waiting to catch him.

"He's all yours, Mr. Berkeley."


	2. Red Robin and Batman

On a cliff that was on the outskirts of Gotham, two masked crime fighters stood overlooking their beloved city. On clear nights like this one, the view from the cliff offered a look at the bridges, the steel and chrome high rises and nearly all of the surrounding islands and boroughs. All was quiet in the city for the moment. But each knew that looks could be deceiving, especially in a city that was constantly ravaged by urban warfare and criminally insane individuals. They knew that shady deals were going on in the dark alleys and smoke-filled bars of Crime Alley. And that violence was being perpetrated behind the closed doors of the Bristol District as frequently as it occurred in Gotham's East End. It bothered them, having this knowledge of people being hurt but being able to do nothing. But they were not gods. They could not fight what they did not have standing in front of them. So they were forced to content themselves with the knowledge that the city was safe for that moment. Her Knight was currently standing guard over her, keeping a watchful eye out, and always at the ready to defend those who could not defend themselves. For that moment, it was enough.

"Fe," the larger of the two figures said as he turned towards the other. "Are you and Dick certain that the Scarecrow is behind this new hallucinogenic drug we've been seeing on the streets lately?"

Bottle green eyes shifted to look up at this man who was both her friend and her partner. He'd grown so much in the last ten months. The grief and uncertainty that had shadowed that boyish face, electrified those eyes a year ago was now gone. Both emotions had been replaced by a quiet maturity and confidence that only time and experience could provide. He'd settled well into his grown-up skin she mused. Tim Drake not only understood who he was as a man, but who he was as the Red Robin now as well.

"I had Dick run a sample of this drug against some of the other Fear toxins we've encountered Tim," she said on a sigh. "And his analysis shows that there is a strong chemical significance to support that Crane is definitely behind the synthesis of this new drug. It has all the chemical isotopes found in his other toxins."

"How Crane is manufacturing this drug," he said thoughtfully. "That's what I want to know."

"I'd like to know that myself," she admitted with a slight nod. "Especially since as of seven o'clock this evening, Dr. Jonathan Crane was safely locked away in his cell at Arkham. And has not been let out of that cell, for any reason at all, in the last six weeks."

Timothy Drake glanced at her from out the corner of his eye.

"Are you sure it was Crane in his cell?" he asked. "He has manipulated us into believing that he was safely tucked away when he wasn't."

"Well," she said slowly. It wasn't like she hadn't already wondered that herself. "I was busy sedating his current therapist as well as the guards that he managed to dose with Fear toxin before he decided to make an escape, so no," she admitted. "I am _not_ completely sure that it was Crane. I did not see him, nor was I the one who deterred his escape from the grounds. Dick was."

"He actually attempted a breakout while you and Dick were there in the Asylum?"

Her lips curved at the incredulity in his tone; upon his face.

"Imagine that," she teased. "A super criminal who decided to make a break for it while the big black Bat was just around the corner to helpfully stop them."

He snorted a laugh. "So Dick subdued Crane while you dealt with the doctor and guards."

"I saw it as a fair trade considering how pissed off he was with me."

Tim slanted a look at her.

"You _did_ undermine his authority, Raya."

She sighed; knew that technically Tim had a point. She had undermined Dick's authority, supplanted his role as the mentor by siding with Robin.

"I was merely acknowledging that Damian's argument for why he should be allowed to go on solo patrols was both sound and logical. And that it was supported with irrefutable fact."

Tim snorted. "Which as good as told Dick that you agreed with the little creep. And gave the kid that edge he needed to continue arguing until he got his way."

"I do agree with Robin," Her sigh was complimented by a slight puckering of her brow. "As much as I might not want to agree with Damian from the adult standpoint, as a fellow crime fighter, I have to."

"Uh... why?"

"Because you, Dick and Jason all were allowed out on solo patrols during your tenures as Robin," she said quietly. "And Damian needs that same bit of freedom that you guys had so that he can not only apply what we teach him in real world situations, but also learn his own lessons and find his own footing as a crime fighter."

"Look at what happened to Jason when he had that bit of freedom given to him, Raya. He was murdered."

That was a point that she found difficult to completely refute. Jason Todd's brutal death at the hands of the Joker had greatly affected the lives of the Batfamily-Bruce most specifically. And it had changed the manner in which Robins were trained-starting with Tim. But if there was one thing that she'd come to understand about the latest Robin, it was that her baby bird was nothing at all like his predecessors.

"Robin is an intellectual warhorse with the instincts of a ninja seven times his age," her lips curved at his sigh.

"He's still only eleven," he said.

"And has already managed to best you, Jason and Dick in hand-to-hand combat, Tim. That alone tells me that Robin can handle a solo patrol or two."

Tim was about to say more but the roar of a cars engine coming up the road towards them caught his, and Raya's attention.

"Uh?" Raya gestured towards the slash of headlights. "Didn't he show up the last time that we met on this particular cliff?"

"He was coming from the other direction and just had had his ass handed to him by yours truly," he flashed her a playful grin; saw her roll her eyes skyward. "But to answer your question, yes he did."

She smirked at him, said; "I tend to recall that it was a pretty uneven-"

"Quiet," Tim spread his hand over her face and gave it a gentle nudge. "I won when I put my bo-staff against his chest."

"He wasn't fighting with his heart in it, Tim. And while it would be interesting to see which one of you would come out the victor in a real fight..." she reached up and laid her hand against his cheek. "I'll never let it happen. Because I love you two birdbrains to much too allow you to hurt each other."

"Anyway," he said on a long sigh. "Seeing as it's likely you that he tracked here and not..." he barely flinched when she elbowed him in the ribs. "What?"

"I'm seriously going to check all my equipment for tracking devices when I get back to my bunker," she muttered. "And if I find nothing suspicious in any of my devices, I'm going to check over every inch of my body."

"Oh?" Tim smiled down into her disgruntled face. "Can I help with the body search?"

"Absolutely not."

"Aw," he feigned a wounded puppy dog expression. "Please?"

Her lips twitched. "You just think you're adorable don't you, bird boy?"

"Yup."

They turned as that familiar black automobile crested the final hill and came skidding to a stop in front of them. Dick Grayson, in the dark body armor and black cape and cowl of Batman swept from the vehicle and faced the two people watching him. They were two of his closest friends. Two of his most trusted confidantes. But that night they were more than his partners, his friends, or his allies. They were his _family_. Just as Damian was his family. His baby brother.

Dick felt a long-buried anger swelling in his chest.

Nobody messed with his family. Whoever did he made pay.

_Berkeley_.

A low-growl escaped Dick's lips, snagging Raya's attention. Instinct, as well as over a decade of friendship, told her that something was amiss. She stepped to him, saw his eyes shift and trap her within a stare that was burning, blistering blue. _Accusatory_. Which meant...

_Oh no_.

"Dick?" she set a hand on his arm, felt the muscles bunch beneath her palm. "Where's Robin?"

"Robin's been kidnapped."


	3. You can't go

**Disclaimer: **I own nothing but for the general theme and concept of my story...

* * *

_Continued_...

"_What_?" Tim and Raya asked in unison.

"Damian has been kidnapped."

Dick's eyes never left Raya's. It was clear who he was holding accountable for Damian having been kidnapped in the first place: _her_. But he'd never say that he blamed her. Not out loud. Nor would he waste time reminding her about how _she'd_ been the one to side with Damian. And that _she'd_ been the one to say that he was ready and capable of handling a solo patrol. It wasn't Dick Grayson's style to say something verbally when he could just as easily convey his thoughts so eloquently within that penetrating stare of his. _I'm sorry, Dick,_ she told him silently._ God, I am so sorry_.

"When? And from where?" they heard Tim ask.

Dick shifted his gaze over to him, said; "He was snatched from the Thomas and Martha Wayne Memorial Park about an hour and a half ago."

"By who?"

Dick sighed softly. There was a loaded question if he'd ever heard one. And one that deserved an answer considering how much he was going to need Tim's help that night. Because while Dick knew and understood that the relationship between Timothy Drake and Damian Wayne was _volatile, _and that neither liked the other much, he also knew that Tim wouldn't hesitate to help him rescue the boy. _And I need his help more than ever considering who the man holding Damian hostage is_.

"That's a problem," he said on a breath that was both half grumble and growl.

"Why is it a problem?" Tim asked curiously.

"Damian was attacked by more than one attacker tonight. And neither one showed their face on any of the traffic cams surrounding the park."

"There's no clue as to who it was then?"

"I know who the one holding him is, Tim."

The dark chill in Dick's voice was so much like the raspy growl that Bruce used that it sent tingles of alarms dancing along Raya's spine. She slid her hand down into his, squeezed his fingers reassuringly.

"We'll get him back from whoever has him, Dick."

"No."

She never saw it coming. One second he was looking at Tim, his face a mask of hard angles and planes-the determined warrior. The next his fingers were tightening on hers and he was yanking her against him, hard enough to knock the wind out of her.

"_You _are to head to the Batcave and lend Barbara a hand in figuring out who helped set Damian up. Tim and I will handle getting him back from his capturer."

_Why is he sending me to the Batcave_? Raya wondered with a slight frown. If Damian had been kidnapped by one of Batman's innumerable enemies, then every able body was needed to see that the boy was gotten back safely. _But Dick's sending me to the cave. Almost as if he_... her thoughts trailed off as realization dawned. She lifted eyes that had suddenly gone as hard as green glass to his.

"My goddamn father has Damian, doesn't he?" When he didn't reply she slapped her free hand against his chest plate, snarled; "Doesn't he?!"

"Yes." Dick immediately tightened his grip on her hand. "And that is why _you_ are going to the Batcave."

"_No_, I'm not."

"_Yes_, you are."

When she went to slap her free hand against his chest again, Dick caught it in his and pinned both at her sides.

"Lemme go damn you!"

"Not until you agree to return to the cave and help Barbara."

She yanked her arms free and slammed her palms against his chest.

"No!"

Tim saw the fight brewing between them and stepped forward, saying Dick's name softly in order to get his attention. "Dick, maybe..." he said slowly.

"No, Tim," Dick interjected in a soft, but firm voice. "I cannot allow Raya to confront her father. Not when Damian's life is the one that is on the line here."

"_Allow me to confront my father_." Raya repeated the statement as if he'd said it in a foreign language. "Yea, see, I don't recall having to answer to _you, _Grayson."

Dick shifted, leaning closer to her, simultaneously protective and threatening.

"When you're in Gotham you'll damn sure answ..."

"Finish that sentence," she hissed. "I dare you."

Tim had not known that Raya had that much temper in her. Or that it could, like always, trigger Dick's own.

"This is not open to discussion," he snarled through clenched teeth. "You can either stay here or you can take your ass back to the cave and wait there for us. Either way _you_ are _not_ going to confront _your_ father!"

She lifted her head and met his scowl without flinching. "Oh, I'm confronting my father. And nothing _you_ say or do is going to change _my_ mind about it!"

He looked down at her, stepped closer, only a few inches taller than her but still managing to be subtly intimidating.

"Well I'm suggesting that you change your mind. And if I was you," he added before she could issue the blistering retort he saw already forming in her eyes, upon her lips. "I would change my mind really, _really_ quickly."

He took another step; eyes locked on his, Raya raised her hands and shoved against his chest.

"Stop it! You're trying to intimidate me into doing what it is you want me to!" She shoved at him again. "And it's not going to work. _You_ are not _him_. You don't intimidate me like he does!"

"If he was here he'd do a helluva lot more than just intimidate you in order to get his way and you damn well know it, Raya."

Raya glowered at him. "And I might be inclined to obey him more than I intend to obey you." Now she glared. "But I wouldn't count on it. When it comes to standing face-to-face with my father and finally seeing him brought to justice, there's nothing, besides death, that is going to stop me."

A muscle ticked in Dick's jaw, was her only clue as to how tight a rein he was keeping over himself at that moment. But she'd only begun to blister him for his high-handedness. She slapped a hand on his chest before he could move around her. Dick reached up and grabbed her hand in a bone-crushing grip.

"I wouldn't push me much farther, Raya."

Part of her was annoyed with him for not seeing- for not realizing why it was so important for her to confront her father. It was not only about getting back Robin, or obtaining justice for the woman he'd brutally murdered. It was also about finally laying the past to the rest so that she could move on with her own life.

"Dick," she said as calmly as she could. "This is something I not only _have_ to do, but which I _need_ to do."

"I know you think that I don't get it, Rae. But I do get it. I get that you want to see your father brought to justice. That you need to see him brought to justice in fact. I support you in wanting to see that. And I will do everything I can to help you get that." He yanked her to him, hard enough that their bodies collided. "But I'm not letting you risk your life for it! Not this time!"

"It's my life to risk, Dick. Not yours."

He gave her one quick, desperate shake. "No, it's not just your life that you're risking here! You're also risking Damian's!"

"I'd die to save Damian and you know it."

That was the problem. He did know that she'd die to save Damian. She'd die to save any of them. And that was why he wanted her back at the cave.

"And that's why I'm ordering you back to the cave," he gritted. "_You_ don't value _your_ life as much as _I_ do."

"You're not my shield, not my protector. What abilities and skills I possess are not any less than yours." She shoved him with her free hand. "I won't tolerate this, not from _you_. We're more than just partners and friends Dick. We're family." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "And I'm asking you as family... _please_; do not ask me to stand down."

"If you were being rational right now, you would see that your emotions are clouded. And recall how clouded emotions in our line of work can be dangerous."

"You're interfering because it makes you feel like the goddamn hero, and-"

"That's not why he's doing this, Raya."

Even as Tim spoke, the piercing edge of her gaze swung over to him, raked over his face. Recognizing a woman who was about to cause physical bodily damage to whatever member of the male species was in her way, Tim held up both hands, stepped back. _Dick_, he decided, _you are all on your own_.

"Is it that you _think_ I am incapable of facing my father?" She rounded on Dick again, slapped her freehand against his chest plate. "Is it that you think I'm going to fall to pieces the second I'm face-to-face with the rotten, no good son of a bitch?"

"It's neither of those things and you know it, Raya."

Tim had never seen her like this. He watched, fascinated, as Raya slapped Dick's chest plate again with her free hand.

"Then it must be that you fear that I will make the same childish and stupid mistake that almost got you killed the last time I was face-to-face with my father."

"I said stop hitting me." Dick curled his fingers around the hand she was currently slapping against his chest. "And if you're finished with your snit...don't even think about it," he warned when he saw the murderous intent that glimmered in her eyes.

"Snit? You think this is a snit?" She uttered the words in a low, emotionally charged tone. "He murdered _my_ mother twelve years ago you stupid, insulting, aggravating _Batass_!" Temper shuddered back to twist painfully with grief. "He kidnapped Damian on the anniversary of her death, Dick_._"

"Oh, baby." His hands gentled, and his anger became sorrow. "Why didn't you remind me that this was the night that your mom was murdered?"

"Because." She slid her arms around him, held on tight. "I didn't want you to walk around with that reminder in your head. You have enough shit swirling around inside that head of yours. You don't need my shit, too."

"You've carried the image of my parent's death around inside of you all these years." He dropped his cheek to the top of her head, stroked her back. "I woulda carried around yours for you. Because we're family, like you said."

"I know you would have, Dick." Raya rest her forehead against his chest and closed her eyes. "And that's why I have never told you about what happened that night. Because I knew that if I told that you'd go after my father. And I was afraid of that. Because I was afraid of losing you. I'm still afraid of losing you. _All_ of you."

"Don't you understand that that's why I want you to go back to the Batcave?" he whispered. "That I want you somewhere safe because _I'm_ afraid of losing _you_?"

"And don't you understand that I cannot face the future until I can lay my past to rest?" she whispered back. "That I cannot face _Bruce_ until I can face my own _father_?"

Until that moment, Tim had remained a silent observer. He'd told himself that this was a fight that needed to be resolved between _them_. But her last statement made absolutely no sense. _Why can't Raya face Bruce without first facing her own father_? he wondered. Instinct told him that this had to do with why she'd left Gotham. And was the reason for why she left Gotham whenever Bruce was here. And he wanted to know _why_.

"Why can't you face Bruce until you face your father, Raya?"

Dick looked down into Raya's upturned face.

"She can't face Bruce because ten years ago her father kidnapped me," he said while staring into that swirling gaze. "And he told her that he would trade me for her. And of course she agreed," his lips curved slightly at the corners. "Because that's the kind of woman that our Fe is. She agreed to trade herself if her father would let me go free."

"But I knew it was a lie," she said quietly. "I knew my father had no intention of letting Dick go. He'd become a threat that had to be eliminated. But instead of waiting for Batman, or for my uncle, I charged in to save Dick. And my father shot him as he shot my mother."

Dick stroked her hair. "And he would have shot her had Batman not arrived and stopped him."

Tim absorbed all that they'd told him. It made perfect sense- her guilt and grief, and her self-hatred and fear keeping her from facing Bruce. But in the last year that Tim had been partnered with Raya, he'd learned one thing about her: that she did not let her mistakes stand. She always revisited her mistakes, analyzed what she did wrong and figured out the way that she should have done things. Her mistake last time was that she'd charged in and gotten Rob... realization dawned and he lifted his head to look at her.

"You need to correct your mistake of last time by saving Robin this time."


	4. Infilitration

The Berkeley Estate was in the north end of Gotham's Bristol District, an extravagant prison of white brick built along the same Gothic architectural style as Wayne Manor. The property was surrounded by a wrought-iron fence topped with razor-sharp spear points, beyond which stretched miles of neatly tended green lawn and majestic oak trees. Her father could have any number of booby traps laid out in that sprawling verdant version of no-man's land. With his paranoid and highly suspicious nature, Matthew Berkeley Jr., believed that the more security he had... the better protected that he was.

Her father's paranoia was one of his biggest weaknesses because he saw himself as invincible. Since his hired goons could stop a _normal_ person, he thought he was safe. He didn't take into account that his hired goons were not going to be able to stop Batman and Red Robin. Arrogance was a mortal sin that had led many a pompous ruler to their downfall. Given all that she knew about her father, she decided her best approach was from the tunnels that ran below the main house. Raya crept around the perimeter fencing, careful not to stir dried leaves or step on fallen twigs. When she reached the stretch of open ground that led to the underground tunnels she paused. There was no sign that it was being guarded, but she still needed to tread lightly. Where her father was concerned _safe rather than sorry_ was always the best policy. As she walked towards the tunnels entrance, her heart beat a little too fast. She stopped, waiting until she'd regained control over her rampaging thoughts and emotions before ducking into the tunnels moist shadows.

The tunnels were dank and dark and would have been difficult to navigate were it not for the night-vision filters in her mask. Slippery slime coated the rock walls. Rats and other vermin scurried into the shadows, rustled overhead. Tunnels and caves were also a favorite nesting spot for bats- as she well knew. A switch flipped on inside her. Shifting between her real persona and her crime fighting persona was such a part of her now that she no longer recognized when she did it. Raya took a backseat and allowed the Fenix to creep through the tunnels, watching her every step as she made her way through the underground caverns. She kept her guard up and her body tense, always at the ready. Her eyes probed the thick shadows for any sign of human movement. Her ears strained to detect even the minutest of sounds. Footsteps echoed from up ahead. She grabbed onto a hanging pipe and swung up and out of sight. Her sleek black suit made her completely invisible.

A few seconds later, a mercenary came walking down the tunnel. Padded black body armor, a motorcycle helmet complete with thermal night-vision goggles, and an automatic assault rifle made it clear that her father was paranoid enough to beef up his security considerably. _He knows that Batman is going to come for Robin. _The mercenary paused to scan the dimly-lit tunnel, which presented her with one chance in which to eliminate him before he decided to use his thermal vision and scout the ceiling above him. She hung from the pipe, upside down, and hit him in the side of the neck with one of her neurotoxin laced needle-thin projectile darts.

"What the hell?"

The startled guard had time to reach up to touch the side of his neck before the neutralizing toxin took effect, rendering him unconscious. Fenix dropped down to the ground without making a sound. She zip tied the mercenary's wrists and ankles before tapping her earpiece.

"Batman," she said softly. "Be on the lookout for armored guards with thermal night-vision goggles carrying military grade assault rifles."

"Where are you, Fe?" Batman asked.

She began making her way down the dark tunnel that she knew led to the basement.

"I'm in the underground tunnels that run beneath the main house."

She heard a sigh and recognized it as Tim's.

"If she tells me that there's a Fenix-cave beneath this house..."

"No," she said with a good deal of amusement. "There is no Fenix-cave beneath the house, Red."

"Why did you tell us to enter the house from the back gardens if there were underground tunnels we could have used instead?"

"I couldn't be sure what condition the tunnels were in is why," she replied as she climbed over some debris.

"You didn't think to have them inspected after the earthquake that hit Gotham?"

"Afraid not Red," she sighed. "I honestly never intended to use these tunnels again and didn't think it important to have them checked because of it."

"Understood, Fe." Batman said. "We're making our approach to the house now. Snipers are patrolling the roof and we've had to move slow to avoid drawing their attention."

She made a soft sound deep in her throat. Her father had more than just beefed up his security, she realized. He'd prepared for a _war_. This is about more than Batman coming for Robin or trading Robin for me, she thought. But she kept her suspicions to herself, didn't want to raise their alarm

"You two be careful," she said in a soft tone. "We don't know what we might find once we get into the main part of the house."

"Same goes for you," Red said. "We'll see you in the family room in ten minutes."

"_Ten minutes _Fe," came Batman's stern voice in her ear. "Or _else_."

_Just as bad as your father sometimes, Grayson_, she thought as she disconnected her earpiece. She scanned the basement with her thermal vision to ensure it was empty before she opened the door. Her eyes tracked everywhere as she made her way across the room quickly. She heard footsteps on the floor above her and paused to scan the number of guards that were prowling the second-floor. Counting at least three dozen gave her a moment's pause. That was a lot of firepower just to protect one Robin. But she shook off her concerns and hurried over to the north-east side of the room.

The hidden door was cleverly worked into the white paneling. Though she expected the creak of hinges, the sound still sent chills dancing up and down her spine. The door popped open, releasing a rush of fetid air and the smell of dust and mildew. She took no notice as she began making her way quickly along the passageway, her fingers trailing the wall on the left side in order to find the hidden door she needed to use to exit the passageway. By the time she felt the seam of the door, she was more than ready to get out of this dark and dank passage that was hardly bigger than a jail cell.

She checked to make sure no mercenaries were on the other side before she pushed the hidden door open, sucked in a lungful of the fresh air, and stepped out into what had once been the living room. The family room was just across the main foyer, she told herself, already moving on silent feet to the door. From there it was just a matter of leading Batman and Red Robin through the passageways to the east wing of the mansion, and to the bedroom where her life had been changed forever.

* * *

"I can see why Raya prefers the Manor to this place," Tim said as he peered around the corner of the house to ensure that no guards were patrolling that sector of the property. "Even with the mountain of dark memories that hang over the Manor, it does not feel as cold, lonely or as _sad_ as this place does."

Removing a lock pick from his utility belt, Dick knelt and made short work of the lock on the doors at the back of the property. He, too, felt the oppressive weight of death that hung over this place.

"I didn't understand why she preferred the Manor until after I attended a New Year's Eve Ball here with Bruce," he said.

Tim slanted a look at him. "That was before her mother's murder, wasn't it?"

"A couple weeks before, yes." He flicked his gaze over at Tim. "Even with music blaring and people laughing, you could feel that the house was a dark entity possessing a cornucopia of secrets. And that it was..." he trailed off, struggled to form the words that explained the strange feelings this house evoked inside him. "I dunno... _waiting_ for something."

"Waiting?" Red asked curiously. "Waiting for what?"

"I was never sure if the house was waiting for another death to occur or waiting for its dirty secrets to finally be aired."

"You met her parents that night, right?"

"No, I didn't."

"What?"

Dick's smile was bitter, as was his voice when he said; "Matthew Berkeley, like most of Gotham's elite at that time, felt that my _pedigree_ was well below his social standard. And so he did not deem me as someone worth meeting or knowing."

"But Bruce took you in..." Tim began but Dick cut him off with a shake of his head.

"Being the ward of someone whose blood was as blue as theirs did not make me one of them. To most of Gotham's high society I was nothing but a dirty_ circus _rat_."_

It was a part of his history that he did not like thinking about unless he had too. On the outside, being the ward of a man with the vast wealth and social status as Bruce Wayne should have seemed like a dream come true for a boy who'd suddenly found himself an orphan. But it had been more a nightmare than a dream to Dick's way of recollection. Being singled out constantly by school faculty and angry parents, tormented and ridiculed by fellow students and virtually ignored by his benefactor had left him feeling caged, empty, and even more alone than he'd been at the Catholic orphanage.

"That's why Berkeley didn't approve of your friendship with Raya."

"He saw our _friendship_ as preventing her from attracting a suitable boyfriend from among her social equals."

"Alfred told me that Bruce encouraged you to keep being friends with her. That he thought you were good for each other."

"We were good for each other, Tim," he said with a slight smile. "Raya and I were two lonely, lost and grief-stricken kids desperately in need of a friend." It bounced in his memory. Tasted bittersweet. "Having each other to hold onto helped us to adjust and come to terms with all the changes that were going on in our lives."

"Considering how much your lives changed? It's easy to see why you guys became close." _And have only gotten closer in the years since_, Tim thought. But his thoughts returned to a question that had been plaguing him as of late. "Why didn't Gordon arrest Berkeley for his wife's murder? Surely he was looking at him as the prime suspect?"

"Gordon always suspected Berkeley is the one who murdered Ellen Rae Kean. As did Bruce, Alfred, Barbara and myself. But proving that he was the one who pulled the trigger has been an issue that neither Gordon nor Bruce has been able to resolve."

"Why not?"

"Because what forensic evidence that was obtained that night has either been tainted or lost," Dick sighed, glanced up at Tim. "There's just been no way to make the charges stick."

"And considering that the only witness has refused to talk about what really happened that..."

Dick heard the frustration in Tim's voice and reached out to set a hand on his shoulder.

"Could you admit that your father was the one who murdered your mother, Tim?"

Tim opened his mouth to reply, but found that the answer wasn't as easy as it seemed. Admitting that someone like Captain Boomerang or the Obeah Man murdered your parent was a lot easier than admitting that it was your own parent that murdered the other he realized. He sighed and watched Batman turn the door latch, and push open the door. Alongside Batman, Red stepped into the dark and silent room. They moved like a well-oiled machine, fanning out to cover both sides of the room, automatically knowing-trusting that the other would always have their back. Batman did a thorough surveillance of the first story that revealed three bodies besides his and Red Robin's own-two in the foyer in front of them and one in the room across from them that he assumed was Fenix.

"I'm counting a minimum of a three dozen guards patrolling the corridors of the east wing." Red said as he crouched in the shadows by the entrance. "And there are four figures in one of the upstairs rooms-one figure smaller than the rest. I'm assuming the smaller figure is Robin."

"There are two guards in the hall in front of us," Batman whispered back. "And I suspect that the figure in the room across from us is Fenix."

"We both know how bad she is with directions." It was said with amused resignation. "But getting lost in her own house is bad even for _her_."

"You think that's bad?" Dick flashed him a grin. "She sent me and Bruce to a Chinese Brothel instead of Ace Chemicals."

Tim stifled a chuckle. "Oh, man, I can so imagine Bruce's face when he found himself in a brothel."

"He was not amused," Dick said with a grin. "And made her study every map of Gotham in the Manor to ensure that it never happened again."

Tim chuckled as he watched Dick get to his feet and begin making his way from the room, scalloped cape fluttering behind him. The two henchmen stood in front of a dark room on the opposite side of the foyer. The black leather bomber jackets they wore, the black cargo pants, and the automatic rifles made it clear that they were not simple bodyguards or ordinary thugs. The lead thug smiled, cold and cruel as the two caped crusaders came towards him. His eyes, Batman saw, were empty and blank, devoid of anything but the evil that lurked within.

"Well, lookie what we have here." The thug said in a cold, dark voice. "It's Batman and Red Robin."

"But the girl ain't with them," the second thug complained. It was clear to Red that he was not the brains of the two. "Boss ain't gonna be happy."

"Who says she ain't here?" Lips compressed into a hard, thin line, the guard lifted his rifle and pointed it directly at Batman. "I say we lure the little bitch from her hidey hole by shootin' these two full of lead."

Dick saw Raya step out from behind the two men. He watched her lift up her right hand, saw the smoke capsule nestled in the web between her thumb and pointer finger. He gave an almost imperceptible nod of his head, understanding what she was about. She dropped the bomb between the henchmen. Dense smoke immediately filled the entrance hall and made visibility difficult for the armed men.

"What the hell do we do?" The second thug cried.

"Start shooting ya idiot!"

But the startled henchmen didn't have time to lift their weapons. Batman attacked in a vicious display of violence. A spin heel kick disarmed the first guard, only a split second before he slammed his head into the doorjamb while Red simultaneously laid out the second thug with a jaw-crushing right hook. They moved with the confidence of two people who didn't even have to anticipate what the other was going to do. Once the thugs were disposed of, Tim secured their wrists with zip ties before joining Dick and Raya at the entrance into what Tim assumed had once been the formal living room.

"I thought we'd agreed on meeting in the family room?" Dick asked with the ghost of a smile upon his lips. "You didn't get lost or anything did you?"

"I did not get lost," she said with a sheepish smile. "So much as I forgot that the hidden door that leads into the family room is on the right hand side of the passageway instead of the left."

His lips twitched but he refrained from pointing out that she frequently got lost even when she did remember where the hidden doors were located.

"There are hidden passageways in this place?" Red shook his head. "Next you'll tell me there's a hidden room behind one of the bookcases in the library..."

"There is," the older superheroes said in unison.

"But no cave beneath the house?" Red sighed. "Kinda disappointed about that, Fe."

"Oh well, you can start building me a cave beneath the house once we evict the current occupants then, Red."

He grinned at her. "But then I'd have to move all the cool toys here..."

She grinned back at him. "Now you see why I like playing at your house, huh?"

Dick sighed and shook his head. "And finally the truth comes out."

"What truth?" she asked with a lifted brow.

"You didn't love me. You loved my toys."

"Yup," her lips curved. "Playing with your toys was the only thing I missed the whole time I was gone."

"I knew it."


	5. Past Revisted

Damian Wayne sat rigidly, his arms and hands tied behind him by a length of heavy rope, under the watchful eyes of two armed mercenaries and a man who'd introduced himself simply as Mr. Berkeley. Damian knew he was the father of Raya Kean- longtime friend and partner of Dick Grayson-intermittent Batman and Nightwing and Damian's only true friend in Gotham. The acidic taste of his bitterness mingled with the coppery sweetness of the blood, _his_ blood, he thought savagely, that had seeped into his mouth after Berkeley had dealt him a vicious backhanded slap that'd split his lip.

Damian cast a surreptitious glance at the man seated across from him. He had not understood at first just just how a woman like Raya, whom Damian viewed to be a decent enough martial artist and okay crime fighter, could have allowed herself to be victimized by this man. But he'd quickly found out the answer. Listening to the litany of things this man had done- to Raya and her mother, to Dick and Tim, to Commissioner Gordon and Barbara had made him want to retch. Matthew Berkeley Jr. enjoyed hurting people. _And his favorite target was his own daughter, _the young superhero thought_._

It was a bitter tasting dose of reality for the eleven-year-old to have to swallow. While he had grown up in the shadow of his grandfather, Ra's al Ghul, and been indoctrinated with the violent teachings of the League of Assassins from birth, he had never been abused in any form or fashion. And seeing the parental card that Raya had been dealt had made him extremely grateful to have the father he had. Bruce Wayne was many things; Pessimistic, cynical, suspicious, antisocial. But abusive was not among his innumerable character flaws. _Father would never raise a hand to any of us_, Damian thought, blue eyes narrowing to slits. _He would never use his greater physical strength to cause us intentional physical harm._

One of the mercenaries jabbed him in the back with the barrel of his rifle to the amusement of his friend. Damian shot him a furious glare, promising retribution, but the thug gave him a dead-eyed predator look, one that didn't impress the masked Robin one bit. With his hands and arms tied behind him and those two assault rifles trained upon him, there was nothing that he could do and they knew it.

No matter how good an escapologist he was, no matter how well trained a warrior he was or how skilled he'd become during his tenure as Robin, Damian was smart enough to know that the moment he got free those guns would open fire and tear his body to shreds. So he was forced to content himself with the knowledge that Dick would be coming for him at any moment and that together, Batman and Robin would unleash their own unique brands of justice upon this motley crew of degenerates. The idea of Berkeley bloodied and bruised brought a smile to his face.

"Is there something amusing you, little Robin?"

Damian lifted his head and saw that there was a glint in Berkeley's eye that had the hair on the back of his neck bristling. This man was a dangerous, dangerous adversary. Berkeley may have looked like his father in a dark blue suit with his dark hair neatly combed back, but that was where the similarities ended. They were about the same age, he knew, but where Bruce Wayne still possessed the youthful look of a spoiled and pampered playboy, Berkeley looked a decade older than he was.

His hair was streaked liberally with gray at the temples. His once handsome face was puffy from years of alcohol abuse, from the madness that permeated his soul. His body was still firm and muscular but he had started to go paunchy around his middle. It was a testament to their different lifestyles, to the different choices they'd made. Bruce Wayne kept himself in top physical condition because it allowed him to fight men like the Joker, like Two-Face and Bane. Berkeley lived a life of over indulgence, treating himself to spa treatments and manicures in order to maintain the illusion of sophistication and wealth.

Lifting his head, Damian stared into those empty, clear pools and vowed in a cool, calm voice; "I was just thinking about how I am going to break your nose as soon as I get free."

Matthew pushed to his feet and walked towards him slowly.

"Do you honestly think that you are going to get free, boy? You won't be getting free, that I can assure you." The ends of his lips curved into a slow, vindictive smile. "In fact, I guarantee that you won't be leaving this estate. At least," he added in a slippery tone. "You won't be leaving in the same condition in which you arrived."

"Batman will-"

"What?" Berkeley interjected. "Come for you?" He smiled again. "Oh, I'm hoping Batman does come for you, little Robin. I cannot kill him otherwise."

The mercenaries laughed as Damian struggled against his bonds. The lead mercenary jabbed him, hard, in the back with the butt of his rifle, knocking his breath out with a whoosh. The other guard laughed raucously. Berkeley himself let out a slight chuckle, clearly amused at the sight of Robin being tortured.

"Now, now boys," he chastised softly. "Is that any way to treat our young friend here?"

"Sorry, boss." The lead flunky said.

Damian noted that it was said with contrition, but not, he knew, because the thug felt any sympathy for the pain he had caused him. He slowly lifted his head and fixed the masked man with a hot stare.

"As soon as I get free I am going to snap your neck," he vowed.

The gunman scowled and lifted his rifle to hit him again but Berkeley stopped him with a shake of his head.

"We don't want to damage the goods, Niven."

"Aw," the guard whined plaintively. "I was just gonna give the brat a little tap on da back of his head."

"I will not tolerate anything ruining my plans for this evening," Matthew said in a dark tone.

Niven nodded his head and stepped away from Robin. He knew that tone, knew that it meant trouble for anybody stupid enough to cross the boss.

"You call plotting to kill Batman a plan?" Damian snorted. "Every super criminal in Gotham has tried and failed," he sneered. "Why don't you come up with something original for crying out loud."

Berkeley clicked his tongue. "_Tch tch_. I'd mind that tongue of yours. Or else," he drew a knife from where he'd stuck it in his belt loop, held it up so that Damian could see it. "I will use this to remove that tongue from your mouth."

Damian recognized the talon shaped blade as one of Raya's specially crafted talons. He had no idea where or how Berkeley had gotten his hands upon the hooked projectile, but it was clear that the blade had been sharpened to a razor's edge. Damian's lips peeled back in disgust.

"You should consider yourself lucky that I'm-" he gritted and barely flinched when Berkeley slapped him.

"I said watch your tongue."

"Takes more than a nob-" a grunt escaped at the next slap.

But Damian refused to let Berkeley see anything but his anger and disdain. A fact that he saw displeased the crime boss greatly.

"Is that the best you've got? Raya hits harder than you do."

Berkeley held up the kunai, turned it in the light an inch from his cheek. Damian braced himself and met those dark eyes without flinching. Berkeley found himself mildly impressed.

"I find your ability to control your fear and mask your emotions admirable, little Robin," he admitted grudgingly. "Raya would have been weeping and begging for mercy by now. But then," his lips curled into a cruel smile. "That little bitch was always as weak as her whore bitch of a mother."

"So, why have you been unable to kill her then?" Sarcasm coated his every word. "If she's as weak as you claim then you shouldn't have had any problems in killing her." He sniffed his disdain. "Sounds to me like you're the weak one."

Berkeley cursed savagely and reared back his arm, intending to deliver a backhanded slap that would silence the masked twerp when a cold voice stopped him.

"If you lay another finger upon my Robin, I will rip your heart out with my bare hands."

The mercenaries cocked their guns, preparing to execute the female intruder on the spot, when two needle-thin bo-shurikens sang through the air, spearing the gunmen in the arm and shoulder respectfully. The neutralizing toxin applied to each dart dropped the guards instantly. Damian's eyes widened in surprise when he saw who his savior was. _Oh, I'd definitely prefer _Drake_ over her_ was his only thought. But the sounds of high pitched shouts and echoing gunfire rang from somewhere down the hall and told him that she had not, thankfully, come alone.

Raya scanned Damian's face, taking note of the bruise already beginning to darken along his jawline and the dried blood that was at the corner of his mouth. She tamped down on her fury, pushed aside the fear. She began making her way towards them slowly. Damian saw how she had managed to enter the room undetected. The hidden door had been skillfully built into the wall, the wallpaper, the white oak paneling. He should have realized that this house, much like Wayne Manor, would have its own share of secrets.

"No…"

A roaring filled his ears as Berkeley slowly turned and gazed upon the young woman standing behind him. He couldn't say her name, could make no sound at all. He prayed that this was just another vision, a hallucination. He went cold to the marrow when that full, wide mouth curved into a smile-Ellen's smile he realized, feeling the familiar burn of anger and hatred in his chest.

"You're dead."

But he saw that that dark hair was the same series of long, springy curls around a face of rosé and cream. That that face was still fox-sharp- the narrow, somewhat aristocratic nose, high, sculpted cheeks, tapered chin. That those eyes were the same dark, vibrant shade of green, those lips the same shade of pink. He told himself that this couldn't be his faithless, whore bitch wife. But hatred turned fact into fiction and madness made it impossible for him to differentiate that this woman was his daughter and not his perceived long-dead wife.

"I killed you bitch..." he whispered at the woman standing in front of him. "I killed you."

* * *

Two menacing apparitions, one cloaked in blackest midnight and the other in blood red and shadows, burst into the midst of a group of mercenaries, knocking them down like bowling pins. Batarangs and disc-shaped emblems winged through the air, disarming gunmen and dropping them stunned upon the ground.

Batman and Red Robin fought like demons, whirling in synchronized motion, always in constant step with the other. Arms were snapped, ankles were twisted, and bodies sent flying. One after another, battered gunmen hit the floor. Silence descended. Red Robin pressed the button on his bo-staff and returned the weapon to its place on his utility belt. He turned to see Batman standing over a fallen henchman.

"What? No more?" He grinned. "And here I was just starting to have fun." One of the henchmen stirred and groped for his rifle. "Looks like that one didn't get the hint about staying down."

Batman booted the thug in the head. "I'm sure he gets it now."

He then stalked towards Red, his cape fluttering behind him like greedy, grasping fingers. The pointy ears of the cowl cast an ominous shadow upon the walls. Tim found himself struggling with accepting that it was Dick, not Bruce, who was coming towards him. When Dick's eyes blazed with the same rage, grief, and torment that tended to burn in Bruce's, he became the formidable Batman that Gotham's criminals feared most.

"This house is having an effect on you," Tim said in a quiet voice. "Isn't it?"

"Yes."

"Yanno, you cautioned and lectured Raya about how her personal feelings about this house and her father were dangerous. I would say your personal feelings..."

"Run deep," Dick cut in, nodding. "I admit that this is personal. It's been personal ever since the night he shot me. And not just because he shot me," he added in a hard voice. "But because he hurt _her_."

"Dick..."

"No," the older hero said in a firm voice. "You need to hear this, Tim."

It bothered him to see the tidal wave of emotions that swam through those eyes. The hurt and the anger and the hate was so tangible that he thought they could reach out and bite him. But he nodded his head, understanding that Dick was giving him a big piece of a puzzle that he had only just begun putting together.

"Alright," he said. "Tell me."

"The night that Berkeley shot me, he snapped Raya's arm. Bad enough that it required surgery to repair. And I could do nothing but lay there and watch as he did it," his torment ripped at Tim, cut him deeper than any knife could. But he allowed his brother the respect of bearing his soul by listening, and remaining silent. "I couldn't stop him. I couldn't protect _her_."

"You were laying on the floor..."

"Doesn't matter, Tim."

No, truth and logic never mattered when it came to someone you love being hurt. Tim knew that just from his dealings with Bruce. And nobody carried around more guilt than the Dark Knight.

"For all that you were Robin, for all that you were highly skilled and well-trained, you were still only a kid," Tim said softly. "And fighting a man who was almost more dangerous than the Joker or Two-Face or Penguin. Because that man was not just violent or vicious because it amused him to be. He was, and is, _insane_. And that is a deadly foe to contend with."

"I know," Dick sighed. "I'm just worried that I won't be able to stop him from hurting her again. That I still won't be able to protect her."

It was rare to ever see Dick Grayson show doubt in himself. Most often he buried his self-doubts beneath sharp and witty banter. Or through high flying, daredevil like assaults. But he was only human. And even he could feel fear.

"You have to trust that you will be able to stop him, Dick. That you will be able to protect her. And you need too trust, too believe, that if you aren't able to save or protect her that I will," his lips quirked. "Or that Bruce will. Or hell, that _she_ will.

Raya _is_ capable of handling herself, Dick. She knows her father, knows his weaknesses. Why else would she remove her mask? Her armor? It's because she knows that the resemblance she bears her mother is going to throw Berkeley off, make him more suspectible to making a mistake that we can use to get Robin outta danger."

Dick knew that Tim was right. That Raya was more than capable of handling herself in a fight. And would call out to them for help if she needed it. But there was a part of him, a dark and terrible part that reminded him that Raya's biggest weakness was Robins'. And Matthew Berkeley was not just holding a Robin. He was holding _Damian Wayne_, whom Raya had the softest spot for.

"C'mon," he said finally. "Raya has had more than enough time to get into the bedroom and neutralize the two guards that were in there."

Tim nodded and together they headed out into the hall. More guards waited for them around the corner. Two stood with guns cocked while a handful of others waited behind them. The gunmen opened fire. Muzzle flares lit up the shadowy hallway. Bullets ate away at the walls, chipping away at the paint and pelting Batman's face and chest with bits of plaster.

If it weren't for the auditory filters built into the cowl, the sound would have been deafening. The acrid smell of cordite was thick upon the stale, musty air. Batman launched a grappling line at the same time Red Robin fired his, each hooking an armed gunmen and disarming them before taking them down with jaw-breaking force.

The remaining guards, immobilized by fear at the sight of not just one but two of Gotham's masked crime fighters standing in the middle of the hall were easy prey. Batman and Red Robin neutralized them before they even had a chance to think about fighting.

Unconscious bodies soon littered the hallway of the mansions east wing. Batman and Red Robin continued on their way, neutralizing guards as they went before turning into a bedroom that was at the end of the hall. Batman frowned when he saw that the room was empty.

"Where the hell are they?" Red was right behind Batman, and clearly confused, given how adamant Raya had been about where it was that she figured her father was holding Damian. "Didn't she say the bedroom at the end of the short hallway?"

"This isn't the bedroom at the end of the short hallway," Batman gritted. "_Raya's_ bedroom is at the end of the short hallway."

"Raya's bedroom..." Red said slowly. Like him, Tim had figured that Robin was going to be held in the room where Raya's mother had been shot. That Berkeley had chosen her old bedroom could only mean one thing.

"Berkeley shot _you_ in her bedroom, didn't he?"

Batman growled a one word answer; "Yes."


	6. Past laid to rest

**A/N:** The Penal Code I utilize is taken from California penal code 632. I wanted it to sound as _authentic_ as I could which is why I chose to use my State's actual code.

* * *

_Cont..._

"I killed you," Berkeley mumbled. "You're dead Ellen. _You're dead_."

Damian's blood curdled as he saw the dead and silent stare in Berkeley's eyes. And the sheer emptiness of it scuttled along his skin. Damian realized that this man was a textbook sociopath, with a few additional psychoses, neuroses and violent tendencies tossed into the mix. He was the Joker with the financial resources of the Penguin and a social stature to match.

"Setting the stage for a guilty by reason of mental disease or defect, are we?" Raya, too, had seen how her father's dark eyes had gone empty. She'd gambled upon the fact that seeing her unmasked would tilt his tenuous grip upon sanity. "That's fine. You caged inside Arkham Asylum or Blackgate Penitentiary makes little difference to me so long as you're locked up for the murdering, abusive son of a bitch that you are."

Those dark, sightless eyes flickered and the hand vised on the blade that he held still, flexed. _She's definitely getting a rise out of him._ Damian scooted himself into a position where he could use his legs to take Berkeley down if the need arose.

"Raya." The word was hardly more than a serpentine hiss. Damian told himself that that was why he felt a cold finger trail its way down his spine. "I'm going to kill you, bitch. But I'm going to make you suffer first. Know how?"

There was something almost reasonable in his voice, something sane to counter the wealth of madness.

"Oh, please," Raya said dryly. "Do enlighten me."

"I'm going to make you watch as I kill Batman, Robin and that other masked whelp."

Raya felt her long-burning anger and hatred for this man rising to dangerous proportions. But she tamped down the fury, buried the fear and kept her focus on her objective: getting Robin free.

"You've tried to kill Batman and my Robins' before. And have failed each and every time that you've tried. What makes you think that you will succeed this time?"

"I've spared no expense this time. I've hired only the best guards and outfitted them with the best weapons that money could buy."

Robin snorted derisively. "Like the Joker and Penguin-"

"Quiet boy." Matthew commanded. He held up the blade. "Or I will use this to shut you up."

"No," Raya refuted in a quiet voice. "You won't."

"Oh? And who is going to stop me? _You_?" He laughed. "Please, you've failed every time that _you've_ tried to stop me. In fact, wasn't it your fault that the first Boy Blunder was shot?"

Instinctively, Damian knew that Berkeley couldn't have said anything more damning. He didn't know what all had happened the night that Dick was shot, or the entire reason behind why it'd happened. But he'd heard Dick mention the night often enough to know that it was the primary reason for why Raya could not bring herself face-to-face with his father. And he could see by the sweep of charged emotions that flickered across her opalescent face that the words were doing what Berkeley intended for them to do: knocking her off balance. _Come on, Kean_, he thought silently. _I'll lose what little respect I have if you let this creep beat you _that_ easily._

* * *

Dick heard Berkeley's words as soon as he entered Raya's former bedroom. And knew they were having an effect upon her. He didn't need to look at her face to know that it was white as a sheet. Or that her eyes were filled with a low simmering anger, a deep-rooted hatred and bottomless wealth of disgust. All of it aimed at _herself_. Because she held _herself_ accountable for what had happened in this room. Blamed _herself_ for his being shot. And hated _herself_ for it. Nothing he said took those feelings away from her. No amount of truth existed that would ever take away the pain of that night. He'd come to understand and accept that. Just as he'd come to understand and accept just why it was so important for her to confront the man standing with his back to him.

But hearing Berkeley's words had a ball of rage coursing through him. He'd felt this level of violence only once before. And it had led him to nearly breaking the Batfamily's one rule about killing. If Batman had not arrived when he had, if he had not administered CPR as he had, the Joker would not be around and still causing his family torment and misery. He let that memory linger, used it to help him contain the storm of emotions sweeping through him. But he was so damn tempted to give in. So tempted. _Just once_, he thought. _I can fall just once_. His torment must have been reflected upon his face, for when he made to step forward, Tim set a hand on his shoulder to stop him. Dick glanced; glared would be more like it, at him.

"I know what you're thinking," Tim spoke gently. "And I understand why you are thinking it. That man, this house, the memory of that night and the girl standing across from you are all eating away inside you. But you know that it is not our way to kill. Just as you know that she would not want you to kill him."

He did know that. And while it worked to bring the rage to a manageable level, it did not alleviate his fear. Or his worry. Or the pain he was feeling watching her suffer.

"Am I to do nothing then?" he asked.

"Yes," came the quiet reply. "It is up to her to finally face her fear and rise from it. Same as you had to do. Same as I had to do. And the same as _he_ had to do."

_Rise_. It was the second mantra of this family. To take what you feared most and utilize it to make you strong. To rise above the fear and become better for it. Dick knew that, just as he knew that it was exactly what Bruce would have told him were he there with them. His lips crooked at the corners.

"You're beginning to sound more and more like him everyday, you know that?"

"I know," he saw a faint smile curve the other man's lips. "It's beginning to worry me, too."

* * *

_You cannot let him beat you like this._

_You must not let him beat you. _

_Allow the Fenix to finally rise._

You_ have to finally rise. _

Over and over she repeated those words in her mind. But doing what you know you have to was not as easy as people thought it was. How was she supposed to rise above the flow of anger and hate and disgust hammering at her? How was she supposed to forget how her arrogance, her stupidity and her irresponsibility was the reason for why the one person who, besides her uncle and cousin, meant everything in the world to her, had gotten shot? She was the cause for Dick almost dying. Just as she was why _Bruce_ had nearly lost...

...and her thoughts trailed off as the answer finally clicked. She'd begun to rise the moment she'd decided to work _with_ Batman, not against him. She'd begun to rise the moment she chose to not repeat her original mistake. She wasn't allowing fear to rush her headlong into danger. Nor had she come _alone_. Her head lifted and she met Dick's eyes, saw the dark tide of emotions stamped upon his face. _My best friend_. Then she looked over at Tim. _My partner_. Finally, she looked at Damian. _My Robin_.

"You're right." Her gaze moved back to Dick's. "That night was _my_ fault. I allowed my fear to control me, to make me act foolishly. And I will bear the reminders of my mistake for the rest of my life. Because my mistake didn't nearly cost Gotham its Robin. It almost cost me my best friend. And my mistake didn't nearly cost Batman his partner. It almost cost a father his son.

No, I will never forget that night." She said as her gaze shifted to clash with her father's. "I will never forget that it was _you _who pulled that trigger. And you who _laughed_ as that boy bled in my arms. But tonight is not that night. And I am not fated to repeat the mistakes that I made on that night. I've grown stronger and smarter since that night. And I learned from my biggest mistake by choosing to not come for Robin alone."

Realizing that Batman or Red Robin or both was behind him, Berkeley dragged Robin up, pressed the point of the knife to his throat.

"Do you think I am going to be defeated that easily?"

"Let Robin go, Berkeley," Batman growled. "_Now_."

"I will slit his throat, Batman. If you don't move away from that door, I will slit little Robin's throat." Matthew's eyes passed from Raya's to Batman's to Red Robin's. "And I won't hesitate to do it. You know that I won't."

"Hurt him, and see what happens," Red gritted.

Raya saw the fury stamped upon Damian's face, read the intent shimmering with the hate in the boys eyes and shook her head at him. _Stay still_, she mouthed to him. He glared balefully at her but complied. _Soon though_, he promised. He'd have his vengeance soon. He couldn't wait.

"You're going to do exactly as I say." Matthew pressed the blade deeper. "If you don't, I'll kill the boy."

"Let him go." Raya took another step forward. "Drop the blade and step away from Robin. Do it. _Now_."

His head snapped up when he heard the echoes of authority and compulsion that sang in her voice. This self-assured and composed woman was not the overwrought and sniveling weakling he'd anticipated, that he'd wanted. This woman was a stranger to him, a dark and dangerous entity that he neither knew nor liked.

"You aren't afraid." There was as much bafflement as rage in his voice. "You're supposed to be afraid."

"Oh, there you're wrong," Raya countered with a slight shake of her head. "I _am_ afraid. I'm terrified that you will hurt my family and friends. I'm afraid of you stealing them from me as you stole my mother from me."

"How that must burn. Knowing who it was that murdered your mother but being unable to do anything to prove it." His voice was a silky purr that slithered across Damian's senses and made him want to retch. "There's no forensic evidence to prove that I was the one who shot the gun that killed her, and no witnesses but you. And who is going to believe _you_?"

Raya's lips curved as she lifted her head, looked over at Batman. "I think a full confession would suffice, don't you?"

Dick nodded.

"And if I know _my_ Robin as well as I think I do..." his teeth flashed for a moment. "I know that he always thinks on his feet. Which means he's recorded everything that Berkeley has told him tonight. And that would include the full details of what happened the night your mother was murdered. Because psychopaths just can't resist bragging about their exploits." Batman spoke over the sharp, clipped command from Berkeley to step away from the door. "Am I right, Robin?"

Robin snorted. "Of course."

"Gotham's Penal Code, section 632 protects confidential communication," Berkeley snapped. "And says that no evidence '_obtained as a result of eavesdropping upon or recording a confidential communication in violation of this section shall be admissible in any judicial, administrative, legislative, or other proceeding_.' It will be thrown out and you know it."

"Ah, but the exception to that rule applies when the evidence obtained can be considered '_objectively reasonable_."' Raya said coolly. "And you volunteered the information while engaged in '_threatening and assaultive conduct'_. No court in this country would find your statements to be covered by that statute. They'd see them as testament of your culpability and involvement in the kidnapping of, and assault upon the minor in question." Her smile could have frozen ice cubes. "It also would be admissible because it shows intent and establishes a history of violent behavior."

Matthew jerked Damian's head back another inch with the blade.

"Destroy the tape or else we are going to find out just how long it takes this little birdie to bleed to death!"

But Damian had finally had enough.

"Let me go or I am going to take you apart, piece by piece," he said in a cold, deadly voice. "I will stick that knife in your thigh, in your neck, in your gut. And I will stand over you and watch as you bleed to death."

The color that rage and madness brought to Matthew's face drained away. He believed what he heard in the boy's voice. He believed that pain and death awaited him at the boy's hands, and he was afraid. His hand trembled on the handle of the knife.

"You won't kill me, little Robin." He said it with a confidence he did not feel. "My daughter won't let you kill me. She wants me alive so she can lock me in a prison cell for the rest of my life."

"What you've always failed to realize," Raya's voice was calm as a midsummer's rain. "Is that at no point in time do I have to _choose_ to save you."

Matthew's breath hissed like a snake. Red read the madman's intent at the same time she did. Raya emptied her mind of everything but her goal to get Damian away from the man holding him, knew that no matter what else happened that the son of a bitch was not taking someone away from her again.

She watched him lift up his arm, knew she had mere seconds in which to act. The blade came slashing down as Red reached for one of his emblem throwing disks at the same time Batman let a batarang fly. Placing her faith in Batman and Red Robin, Raya yanked Robin against her with one arm and twisted to the side, pitting herself between the boy and the blade.

The blade ripped through her shoulder rather than plunged into the boy's back, the surprising bite of the pain eliciting a gasp and forcing her down to one knee. Matthew smiled maniacally and lifted the knife again, imagined plunging it into her back and ridding himself of her forever.

But the batarang clipped him in the back of his head before he could bring the blade down, knocking him face down on the floor and stunning him. The kunai skittered harmlessly across the floor, bounced against the tip of Robin's boot and remained there. She heard both Batman and Red yell her name, heard their worry and fear and anger and sent them both a reassuring glance.

"I'm alright," she said to them. "Just get my father into restraints. I don't want him escaping now that we've finally got him."

Red knew she'd never admit that the pain was like teeth gnawing at her shoulder. Blood was dripping down her arm, coating her hand and seeping into Damian's tunic. But her eyes, he realized, were filled with the kind of relief that only came from finally seeing a nightmare end.

"Stay with her," Batman told Robin. "Gordon will be here in two minutes to Mirandize Berkeley. Then I want you both going to the cave and getting checked out."

Raya watched as he stalked towards her father, taking out cuffs as he went. He needed to do this, she told herself, and she was going to let him. She cut the ropes binding Damian's hands before turning the boy towards her. His face, she saw, was bone white beneath the mottle of bruises already forming, creeping black over his skin.

"Are you alright?" she asked him.

Damian could do nothing more than nod. Blood—her blood- dripped down onto his hand and he looked down at it, curled his fist over it, and felt emotions surge powerfully inside him. That she had come for him, risked her life after everything he'd done and said—to her, to Dick and most especially to Tim- had guilt and shame pounding inside him. Raya saw the play of emotions that flickered over his face-the hatred and anger, the guilt and the fear.

"It's over, Robin." She laid a comforting hand upon his shoulder. "He will not hurt you, or anyone else ever again."

Damian bent and picked up the knife that lay by his foot. His training as an assassin urged him to use the blade to kill the man who had laid a hand upon him, upon her. Eye for an eye, he thought as his fingers clenched on the handle of the blade. But the voices of his father, of Dick, of Alfred told him that killing Berkeley wasn't the way in which justice was served. Raya saw the battle raging inside him and crouched down in front of him.

"Don't kill him," she said quietly. "Not like this. It would not be good for you."

She could see the intent was still there, especially when Matthew began moaning as he slowly regained consciousness. He mumbled something that sounded like, "faithless bitch", but then fell silent. She didn't even spare him a glance, just said to Robin;

"To kill him now, when he has already been beaten, would be dishonorable."

"But it would be rightful justice."

"Giving him death..." she said quietly. "Does not give us justice."

"He deserves death," he insisted stubbornly. "He murdered your mother."

"Killing him will not bring my mother back."

"He's a monster."

"Killing him would make _you_ a monster." She framed his face with her hands. Stared directly into his eyes and asked; "Do you know why your father has never killed the Joker?"

Damian snorted. "He says it's because it would make him no better than that pasty-faced clown."

"No." She spoke gently now. "It's because he knows how easy it would be _for_ him to kill the Joker."

She saw he didn't completely accept that that was the true reason behind why Batman had never murdered his greatest nemesis. He sniffed and looked away, his manner of dismissing her and a topic he found disagreeable. She told herself that the more he was around his father and brothers, the more those sharp and brutal edges he'd obtained from Talia would soften. They heard shouts come from downstairs and feet running down the hall towards them.

"And that would be our cue to leave."

Damian found himself unable to do more than nod. He allowed himself to be led from the room, oddly comforted by the feel of her hand on his back. He told himself that he'd figure out why later.


	7. Robin home

Damian had been staring out at the black world that was outside his bedroom window for the last two hours. And been telling himself for the last hour and a half that he should get some sleep. He was going to have to attend his tutoring sessions in the morning. Only serious illness or injury ever kept him from his tutoring sessions. Sleep or no sleep_,_ he had to attend lectures. Because attending school lectures was another of those rules that he was expected to _obey_. Attend his tutoring sessions, get excellent grades, learn the material that his father gave him to study, don't kill... the list of rules just went on and on. But if he wanted to be Robin (and there was nothing in the world that he wanted to be more), then he had to obey the rules that his father and brother set for him. It wasn't like he didn't want to sleep though.

It was just that he was not able to free himself of this restlessness that was plaguing him. And he knew why he was so restless, too. _Her, _he thought waspishly_._ It was Kean's fault that he was feeling so fractious, so unsettled. Just as it was her fault that his first solo patrol had ended in disaster. And her fault that he'd been kidnapped by Matthew Berkeley. And her fault that she'd gotten injured. He wouldn't have been kidnapped, nor would she have been injured if she'd just done what she shoulda done the night that her father had shot Dick: killed the bastard_. _But his harsh thoughts only made the guilt and shame hammering away inside him all the more terrible to bear.

Especially since he knew everything he was thinking was absolute _crap_.

What had happened that night wasn't _Raya's_ fault.

It was _his_.

He was the one who'd become distracted while on patrol. And gotten injected by that fast-acting tranquilizer for his foolishness. And he was the one who'd landed in the skeletal hands of the Scarecrow. Who had, for reasons still unknown to him, handed him over to Matthew Berkeley. He'd yet to tell either Dick or Raya about Crane being in league with Berkeley, told himself that it was because he wanted to uncover whether or not they'd formed an actual partnership for himself first.

But what was irrefutable fact, no matter how much he mighta wished it otherwise, was that he'd ended up in the clutches of Matthew Berkeley. And because he was, Raya had come for him. He'd been able to do nothing more than watch as that knife came soaring down, ripping into her shoulder and shredding her flesh like paper. He looked at his hand and felt again the stickiness of blood-_her_ blood he thought with a savage wave of violence and guilt-coating his palm.

It required twenty-five stitches to close that long and ugly gash. That it had not nicked tendon or muscle had been a miracle he thought. She'd wanted to leave as soon as Alfred had finished stitching her up, claiming that she should go down to the GCPD and make sure that her father was locked up good and tight. But _he'd _been able to convince her to stay the night instead, citing how it would ease Dick's mind if he was able to take care of her. But he'd really wanted her to stay so that _he_ could take care of her. And the desire to do so was scaring him absolutely shitless.

He desperately wanted to talk with Dick about what he was feeling, what he was thinking. But Dick was dealing with his own emotional baggage at the moment. He didn't need his crap added to the pile. Not that Dick wouldn't put aside whatever he was thinking or feeling in order to listen to him and his problems.

That was just the kind of guy that Dick Grayson was. Always putting everybody-including strangers, before himself. Once that fact would have annoyed him. But not anymore. But not talking to Dick only left him with only two other options- Drake or Todd. And he'd sooner saw his tongue out than talk with Drake. _Guess it's Todd then_. He picked up his phone and dialed his elder brother's number. It rang, but Todd did not answer, which did not surprise him any. He listened to the generic voicemail message and waited for the beep before he began speaking.

"She got hurt." He said simply. Todd would get who he meant. "She got hurt while she was saving me from her father. She put herself between me and the knife he was wielding." He paused for a few seconds to consider what it was that he wanted to say. "I don't understand why she did it."

He paused again. But this time he followed the pause with a low sigh that was ripe with exhaustion.

"I don't understand why she cares so much about me. Not after everything I have said and done. And I don't know how I'm supposed to think, or feel or act towards her. Everything's all messed up. And it's all _her _fault."

An idea struck him then about how he could trick his brother into calling him.

"Oh yeah," he said. "And as if all that's not bad enough? She's left me here with _Drake_."

He hung up the phone then, figured that if anything might gain him a bit of Todd's sympathy it would be about his being left along with Drake. But while he waited to see if Todd would call him back, he decided to head out onto the penthouse balcony. If he wasn't going to sleep, he may as well do something was his thought. And he did need a breath of fresh air. He stalked to the railing and stared moodily out over Gotham.

Until that night Raya had been nothing but an annoying nuisance, someone he put up with because of his friendship and partnership with Dick. _This is all her fault_, he thought again with a sullen frown. He turned to stalk towards one of the chairs but stopped short when he saw that he wasn't alone. _She_ was out here.

"Can't even get a breath of fresh air," he muttered as he turned to stomp back into the apartment.

_Bang_!

The door slamming against the frame startled Raya, who jerked into a seated position on the chaise lounger she'd been resting upon. She turned quickly to look through the glass and spotted the small figure stalking across the living room to the couch. _Oh my_, she thought. _That kid has certainly got Bruce's moodiness down to an art_. Her face softened, and she chuckled softly.

Deciding to go and check on the boy, she swung her feet to the ground, stood, and padded into the apartment. She saw Damian throw a look at her from over his shoulder before he turned back towards the television. He was, Raya saw, currently beating up a video game character that she thought suspiciously resembled Tim in his Red Robin gear.

"Hey Damian," she said in in a soft voice. "Having trouble getting to sleep?"

She saw the brief flash of emotion that filtered into his eyes, crossed his face. Regret, anger, hurt, guilt and fear were all fighting for dominance. But then the mask that he habitually wore fell back into place and he cast a dark scowl in her direction, his mouth set in a hard, mulish line.

"No."

It was said, she saw, without the typical sullen and rancorous bite that normally flavored his tone. And spoke to her louder than words. She walked over to stand behind the huge sectional, her hands set upon the leathery back, fingers just barely brushing those hunched shoulders.

"Dami," she said quietly. "I want you to know that I am here whenever you feel ready, or want to talk about what happened tonight."

Damian just continued playing his game. The last thing that he wanted to do was talk about what had happened tonight. At least with _her_. He glanced down at the phone he'd carried out of his bedroom with him, praying with every fiber of his being for his brother to call at that moment. But the phone did not ring. _Typical,_ he thought. Whenever anybody needed Jason Todd, the man was no where to be found. But the guilt and shame had him asking himself the question that he wanted desperately to ask his brother; w_hy did she save me_?

He didn't realize that he'd spoken his question aloud until he felt her hands on his shoulders, heard her say quietly; "I saved you because I care about you, Damian."

"You didn't save me because you care about me," he spat in a cold voice. "You saved me because you hate your father. And because you care about Dick and my father. And about _Drake_…though I can't imagine _why_ you care about him."

Raya ignored the pain that roared through her arm as she slid over the back of the sectional to fold the boy into her arms. Damian's body jerked, and then stiffened. But he didn't shove her away. And that was telling.

"Now you listen to me and you listen to me good," she said firmly. "_Yes_, I care about Dick and Tim. And about your father and Jason. And yes, I'd do anything I had too in order to prevent them from being hurt, or from suffering the loss of yet another of their loved ones. But I did _not_ save you from my father because of my feelings for _them_. Nor did I save you because I hate the rotten and no good son of a bitch that sired me.

I saved you because of my feelings for _you_. Dami," her cheek dropped against his hair, and her anger became exasperation. "You've had me wrapped around your little wing from the moment that I saw your beautiful little face glaring up at me from the confines of your cloak."

Decidedly uncomfortable with the direction that this discussion had taken, Damian lowered his head and mumbled a soft, embarrassed; "Whatever."

"No, it is no _whatever_. _You_ are no whatever. Kid, if you haven't figured out that you've had me at your proverbial mercy for the last two years, well then," she said, tightening her arms about him. "You just haven't been paying close enough attention."

He wanted to spit, to snarl. He wanted to knock her away from him and stalk from the room. He wanted... to be stroked and held, comforted and soothed he realized. And it absolutely terrified him that he was thinking and feeling this way. He'd never had feelings for anybody but his mother and father. He'd never felt the need or desire for siblings, never saw the point to being part of a huge nuclear family. But with her, there was a different kind of need, a deep, drowning need to be wanted, to be included in the same inner circle in which his brothers and father belonged.

There was no doubt that she cared about him; that night had proven how much she did. And it wasn't like he needed to question whether she accepted him for who he was, and not for what he was. He'd heard her words to his mother the night they'd fought at the Manor. He knew that Raya didn't care that he was a genetically perfected assassin. All that mattered to her was that he _was_.

Damian wanted, desperately wanted in fact, to be loved. And he wanted to love in return. But a part of him was absolutely terrified about lowering his guard, about opening his heart and letting somebody not related by blood or obligated to give a shit about him, in. So he kept a tight reign over his emotions and merely shifted his shoulders.

"Don't think that this changes anything between us," he muttered. "I still don't like _you_."

The words were said in his usual perma-sneer. But what Raya heard was his desperate need to erect some type of a wall between them. _Like father, like son_. But she'd realized a long time ago that there was a heart that beat within this little boy's chest. One that felt keenly and desperately for the people around him. _He just doesn't know how to show us that he cares for us. _But Raya didn't push him any further. She merely kept her arms around him and did what she did best whenever he was in one of these moods: worked to draw him out of it.

"So since I'm awake and your awake...whataya say that we watch a movie?"

He slanted a look at her. "What about my tutoring session in the morning?"

"Terrible thing," she said with a shake of her head. "You woke up with a severe tummy ache."

"Dick is _not_ going to believe that."

"I'll tell him that I have a tummy ache then," she replied with a mischievous grin. "And that you stayed up with me out of sympathy for my plight."

He felt his lips crooking despite his every effort to keep them set in a straight line.

"Any movie that I want to pick?"

"Any movie that you want, kiddo."

Damian didn't even have to stop to consider the choices. There was only one movie that he wanted to watch with her at that moment. And it was a movie that he never watched with anybody out of fear of being mocked for liking it.

"Can we watch Martian Child?"

She smiled. "That just happens to be one of my favorite movies to watch whenever I'm feeling under the weather."

She didn't tell him that she knew that that was going to be the movie that he'd pick. Or that she knew he'd selected it because it was the movie that he most identified with. Same as she'd never told him that she knew about his secret obsession with cats and had brought him back the stuffed Figaro doll as a souvenir from her and Dick's trip to Disney World because she'd known how much he'd like it. With Damian Wayne, the less that you told him that you knew, the better.

"Can we also pop some popcorn?" he asked.

"Sure. In fact, if you'll put the movie in, I'll pop the popcorn. And," her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper. "Raid the cookie jar. Martian Child requires popcorn _and_ peanut butter cookies."

Yea, Damian realized that he should have known that she'd get it. Because somehow Raya Kean just seemed to get _him_. And that thought steadied him now more than it unnerved him. But it also made him realize just how desperately he wanted one thing now:

Her _home_.

* * *

_To be Continued in _**Red Hood and The Fenix.**


End file.
